


Winter Irony

by Ookami82



Series: Post-CoS [4]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, Canon: Fullmetal Alchemist (2003), Canon: Fullmetal Alchemist: Conqueror of Shamballa, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-21
Updated: 2014-05-21
Packaged: 2018-01-26 00:49:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1668647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ookami82/pseuds/Ookami82
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Edward misses his home. decides to spend his Birthday in a bar to blot out the memories.</p><p>Disclaimer: I own nothing of the sort...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Winter Irony

Winter Irony

It had been an extremely long day for the man that sat at the old rickety bar. His dirty blonde hair had been wind blown, and knotty; and becoming loose from the low pony tail he had meticulously put it in before work. His body slouched from exhaustion, his white linen shirt wrinkled and filthy. His olive vest was strewed open and his shirt was un-tucked at his matching trousers waist line. His shoes were still wet from the walk in the fresh-fallen snow. Dripping noises could be heard against the floorboards, as his wet, long brown over coat hung on the back of his bar stool. One left hand was carelessly gripping a whisky glass that sat on the bar surface; while the other was tightly hidden in his right pocket. The metal's chill went straight to his bones, flushing the insides of them with frigid tingles and frozen shards. The man shivered slightly, taking a large gulp of the whisky he held. The stuff really did taste awful, but it warmed him up from the inside out; not the mention its numbing effects on his aching joints. He wasn't an old man; not even twenty to be precise. But simply burdened with problems not even the hardest of war heroes would fathom. These burdens were not just of the emotional values that every human being faced; they were burdens that haunted his memories, his past and his present. He was a foreigner to the bar, that sat in a foreign city and most of all, foreign world.

He was man of a broken science that nearly ended his life and the life of those he loved. All the reason he was currently stuck, sitting behind a smoky bar, in the middle of the coldest winter Germany had ever faced. His thoughts were focused on his memories, and life from the point he could remember to the point of now. In some ways he was content, while in others, he still remained lost. He had achieved what he wanted, and almost perfectly; though his falters remained the same. The most significant was achieved. He had his only remaining blood relative, returned and ever-so alive. His goal had been met. Though, why did it seem that this strange man had a far away look in his odd colored eyes and his heart ached almost as much as his joints? And why did it seem that when a pinnacle and more specific thought occurred, his heart inflamed with a need and longing that made him want to weep to the point of sleep?

He tried to rationalize that it was his life that lead up to this sensation, that he had seen way too many horrors, faced far too much hardship and was stripped from his child hood with just a clap of hands. He was an orphan at a mere 10 years old and forced to become practically both parents for his younger sibling, and role model. He left his home behind to pursue a job that children hid from; that an adult cringed at. And indeed in the end he won those battles. But he possibly lost something as well. He just needed to figure out what it was that he lost.

The man sighed through his thin-pressed lips, rattling the empty glass for a refill. The barkeep moved to the counter taking the man's glass quietly. The thick framed man eyed his customer over his shoulder. He noticed the younger man had dark circles under his eccentric hazel eyes and had grabbed his right shoulder at least five times with in that last 60 seconds. He also noticed the man's souring mood and reflected that was why he had so many bar patrons in the first place. People drank when they had problems; and drank excessively when the problems become unresolved and often ignored. But the barkeep thought of this particular man was different. First off, the younger man only visited the bar once a year (usually around the same time, winter months) and second the man hardly ever spoke when he drank. He sat in one place, quietly and drank his drinks moderately. He seemed mused into his mind, yet determined to just this one time, drink himself until he could hardly walk. The bar keep would watch the man stumble and limp out of the bar, only to return around the same time of year, still limping and seeking some relief from the cruel world.

The bar keep returned to the man with his drink refilled and in hand. He smiled at the patron, setting the whisky on the bar.

"You've been coming here for what two, three years now? And I don't even know your name, son." The barkeep replied, his German clear, as he pulled his wiping cloth from his apron. The younger man looked up briefly, his gold eyes slitting and let a slip of a smile grace his features.

"That's right...three years this year. And my name is Edward." Edward countered forgetfully. He took a sip of his drink and shook his head, to clear his eyes of his long, golden bangs.

"Well, its nice to finally know who you are, Edward. Name's Conley. I've been running this bar for almost five years now, but with this economy and all, I don't think I can stay open. Besides the point, that me and my wife are Jewish. We know how the Germans feel about the Jews, no pun intended mister. You don't say much...and looking at you, I'd say you're not German at all, are you? And your accent is off..."

That got a slightly bigger smile from Edward, who thoughtfully scratched at his chin. "You caught that too, huh? No I am not German, and don't want to be. It's bad enough I had to learn the stinking language." Edward added darkly, shaking the ice around his glass.

"Well if you're not German, where are you from?" Edward's smirk faded into a tight frown, he clenched his right fist inside is pocket and cringed when a dull ache radiated through his chest.

"I'm from some place far away. Things are much different there." He finished, taking another large gulp of his drink.

"Well I wasn't from here. My family is originally from Turkey, but my parents sent me here at a young age to live with my mother's parents. They were from Poland, but lived here. Back then things were much simpler; people didn't care whether you were a Jew or an atheist. You got along, did your work and that was that. None of this dictatorship nonsense and a perfect race." Conley explained.

"I can't say the same about where I am from. People do look at others who are different. But there, things are simpler." Edward commented, raising his glass to his mouth for another gulp.

"Today's February 3rd, it seems you come in here every February...for two years now, and on the same day. Can I ask why?"

Edward scowled at the man. "Because I do. I think of it as a day of recollection...since I am a year older." Edward swallowed the rest of his drink down. He slammed the glass down and pushed it forward for another refill.

Conley frowned taking the glass and replenishing it. Edward grabbed it almost greedily. "Look, it's none of my business, but birthdays aren't that bad are they? You drink like a fish on this day it seems. Surprised I haven't had to drag you out. You get dumped by a woman or something?"

Edward stiffened, stood briskly and slammed his dissimilar, gloved hands on the bar. "You got a fuckin' problem with me here?! I am a paying patron! So what's it matter why I am in here! You haven't had to drag me out..." Edward shouted alarming other customers in the bar.

He slumped back onto his stool and took yet another swig of his whisky. Conley remained frozen, letting the man simmer down. It was apparent that the alcohol was already getting to the golden eyed man.

"Whoa there, son! Hey, I was jus' asking, you know, making conversation." Conley offered defensively.

Edward bowed his head, shielding his face with his bangs. "I lost more than a girl. I lost my home, my brother, my life..." Edward paused briefly, clenching his gloved fists. "And my girl." Edward all but mumbled. "So yeah, I have a lot to be disappointed for today. Everyone I had is gone, so what's the point in celebrating my birthday? I'd rather get drunk." Edward finished, gruffly. His second glass was almost empty once again.

"I guess that does give a good reason. Sorry to hear that. What was the girl like? What was your brother like? Was he older?" Conley asked, intrigued and curious; though he did not expect Edward to answer.

And after the minute that passed, Conley was sure the young man wasn't answering. He had refilled Edward's glass a fourth time during their brief silence.

"My brother was younger than me, by a year...but most people thought that he was older because he was more reserved, and calm. He always watched out for me; and I spent most of my life looking after him, but now I think I failed him. I saw him for the briefest if moments, he was whole and still had my mother's kind eyes...but still I am not fully sure how or where he is. I only hope that he is alive and well." Edward slurred and rambled. He unconsciously pulled both of his gloves off and slapped his false hand on the countertop. It was crude compared to the auto mail his mechanic had made him. The fingers were metal, but, archaic and resembled the fingers of a skeleton.

"What about you? You seem quiet and reserved, just today you are actually speaking." Conley replied as he watched the other patrons of his bar

Conley was surprised to hear Edward's explanation and even more so when Edward continued. " Ha! Right. Me calm, reserved? I don't think so, you just don't know me, mister. I got a real temper and Alphonse always got me out of trouble!"

"So your younger brother is Alphonse? That sounds German...Actually I know of a young man named Alfons. He lives in Munich. He's sharp as a tack, the best in his class. A physics major...I think, and into Rockets. He's around your age, but always sickly. Poor lad. Anyway what about this lady friend of yours? What was she like?"

Edward's eyes bulged at the notion concerning the young man in Munich, named Alfons. Was he like the Alphonse Edward knew. Maybe he could help Edward learn more about the science that surrounded the Earth world and more about these Rockets Edward had heard so much about. Oberth Hermann, one of the first men that Edward sought out studied the mechanics of Rockets. He believed that the rockets could take a man to space; which also made Edward think that he might be able to go home through the Gateway of space and time. Maybe this Alfons would help him as well. Edward smiled to himself; just at the thought of seeing the large yellow house on a hill.

"She was my childhood friend, knew her since I was in diapers. The Germans would love her, with the blue eyes and the blonde hair...bluest you'd ever see. She helped me and my brother a lot through our life...but we never got to thank her, and she always cried over us. She probably still is. Hell, I never thanked her for all she did. And I never told her the things I should have. I should have told her why I treated her the way I did; loved her too damn much to see her get hurt. But I did hurt her, I know it. I can feel it everyday...like a ache that never fades It's too late now...and my little brother..." Edward sighed, attempting to drink his now empty cup.

Conley filled his glass once again and leaned his right elbow on the counter. "It's never too late. You'll find your way back and she will be waiting for you, with your little brother. I am sure she already knew. Women are like that, they know things even when we think they don't. They know, trust me. Were you married?"

Edward, wobbled slightly in his chair. He caught himself by grabbing the countertop, with a weak and clumsy metal hand. His face suddenly burned with recollection. "No, I never married her, but I wish I had. It was only for a short period that I got to feel like what it was like to lay with her, feel her breathe...her skin. I was a selfish Bastard for that, took the last of her innocence! And it wasn't even the right time, a few hours later I boarded a train and could never go back. How could she know? How? How do you know they know?" Edward asked, his voice an octave higher.

Conley smiled. "Well, it's like when you have a brother or sister. They know things about you, or how you feel, with no explanation. You know? It's the same with women. They give a certain look, or act funny around you...like everything you say makes them blush. Things like that. But if you consummated your...strange relationship with her, then I'd say she definitely knows where you stand, especially if she was a virgin."

Edward seemed to contemplate the thought. Did Winry act strange around him before he left? Did he notice? Did she notice? After a moment Edward sighed again, his dreary eyes squinting. His cheeks flushed when the last moment he had shared with Winry zoomed right back into his mind. "Nah, she never did that. She seemed the same...but then again the last time I saw her she was really quiet. She's not like that normally. It was only different when I kissed her...it was awkward really, I didn't have a clue on what I was doing. One thing lead to another and again I made her cry, and I don't think they were tears of joy. I only wished I would have paid attention to my old boss and his idiot colleagues. They could have warned me that I'd hurt her. Maybe she did want to tell me something, I fell asleep soon after it happened...and I didn't listen, I didn't want to listen. She's probably married with five kids by now." Edward bit out, clenching his good fist. He slouched further down, letting his head lay on top of his folded arms.

"I doubt that. Your not very old, so I'd say neither is she. If she did so many things for you, she seems devoted. Women that devoted tend to wait for their lovers...how ever long it takes. When you get back to her, make sure you tell her how you feel and give her something she'd never forget. It works every time. And tell that younger brother of yours how much you appreciate him. Hey, Edward? You still with me? Edward?" Conley had noticed Edward's head between his arms. He pulled the mans head up to see his eye lids resting on his cheeks.

"Happy Birthday Edward. May you have dreams of this pretty lady, Winry. And feel her skin with both of your hands...and may you see your little brother too."

 


End file.
